


The right side of the law

by Tiburion



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other characters cameos - Freeform, Sakazuki is an awful person but a kinda good boyfriend, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiburion/pseuds/Tiburion
Summary: Borsalino and Sakazuki have been together for years, through good and bad times. After the latter gets involved in a big accident their relationship is put at test.
Relationships: Akainu | Sakazuki/Kizaru | Borsalino, one-sided Kizaru | Borsalino/Aokiji | Kuzan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Tales of the city

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings to you who choose to read this story.  
> Before you start I'd like to let you know a couple of things:
> 
> This is my first "real" fanfiction. I come from the artist side of the fandom, meaning I'm more used to get angry from trying to get the anathomy right rather than trying to write something good. However, one of my last AUs got me so pumped and pushed me to embrak on this new adventure. If you want to see what I'm talking about here is my twitter: https://twitter.com/MarineHusbands
> 
> The second point is: English isn't my fisrt language. The orignial text is in italian and a kind soul helps me by translating it. I apologies if there will be grammar errors.
> 
> That's all. I hope you'll enjoy the fic.

At half-past five in the afternoon, the terminal of the Marineford international airport was teeming with people of all kinds: there were those who impatiently waited in line to embark; who had a devil by hair trying to keep too energetic children at bay; who allowed themself a stop at the bar and, occasionally, some unfortunate who along with their luggage crossed the large interiors of the structure in a race against time.

To make their way through the multitude of tourists and commuters there were two figures dragging their respective trolleys behind them - the younger of the two, a man with dark and curly hair wearing a pair of sunglasses, was currently engaged in a vivid conversation with his colleague on his left, the gold-colored badges on the sleeves of the latter's jacket made it clear that they were not there as a holiday.

“- it was a crazy storm, I will never forget it. But tell me Borsalino, what plans have you made for the next two weeks of rest? As for me, I will take my stuff and go a few days out of town, this last flight hit me like a train, I think I will enjoy the well-deserved relaxation."

Borsalino chuckled in response, "always sticking your nose in other people’s business, eh, Brannew? Hmmm --- I have no idea, in all probability, I will stay at home, I will take advantage of it to repaint the walls of the living room, moreover, this weekend there will be a city parade I think I’d like to attend."

At that moment, the two pilots crossed the automatic doors of the terminal exit, the sweet refreshment of the air conditioning left them immediately and they got hit by the hot summer breeze. Borsalino took out a cigarette from the pocket of his uniform and brought it to his lips.

"I see, you haven't lost your habit yet, commander," the subordinate teased while calling a taxi waving his arm, "well, see you, have a good rest."

Borsalino took his leave with a hand gesture while Brannew took his seat in the rear seats of the car who left as soon as the door closed. Left alone, the older man lowered his inseparable amber lenses over his eyes and then proceeded to the parking lot to retrieve his car.

\-----------------------------------------------

Sakazuki, or to be more precise, the chief of the police department, had come to the conclusion that that day had been a total disaster. First of all, the gang of the criminal Marshall D. Teach, from the media imaginatively renamed as Blackbeard, had committed yet another robbery at night by snatching from the private collection of some rich man a jewel of the line known as "Devil's Fruits", somewhat stupid name for jewelry, if you ask for his opinion, but certainly his talent was not to be a jeweler; second, that movement of anti-government idiots known as "Revolutionaries" led by Dragon and his right arm Sabo had attempted to raid the council assembly who had been held downtown this morning to discuss the details of the parade that would soon take place on the streets of Marineford, forcing Sakazuki to intervene with his men resulting in a dozen arrests and further paperwork accumulated on his desk for the end of the day.

To make everything worse, they had received several reports from various cities about some groups of kids who, just today, had chosen to make the park of the metropolis the scene of their stupid teenage scuffles. Smoker, a man with moral balances and one of his best agents, had intervened but strangely had returned to the base without catching even one of those hooligans - of course, the fact that a couple of those hooligans were Monkey D. Luffy, Captain Grap's grandson and his friends was probably the answer to that question.

He put yet another signature on what was probably the fiftieth module of the day and then winked and glanced towards the clock on his desk, almost eight in the evening. Once again he had extended the shift beyond his time. With a sigh he got up from the dark leather armchair that creaked once free from the weight of the officer's enormous size, and headed out of the office.

The first things Sakazuki noticed when he crossed the threshold of the apartment were the TV in the living room area turned on and the light from the kitchen, which was strange since before leaving the house he meticulously checked that everything was in place, then he realized: this afternoon Borsalino would have been returning from the last intercontinental route. He put the keys on the small piece of furniture next to the door and entered the kitchen: the other man was at the counter intent on filleting something on the cutting board. While Sakazuki lent himself to fill that couple of meters that separated them, Borsalino stopped his work to look up at his companion, "Ah, hello Saka, had Captain Garp by chance sprinkled glue on the office chair?" He joked, and then approached and put a light kiss on his lips.

"Forgive me, these last two days have been quite busy, and the addition of the preparations for the parade to be held at the end of the week have not made things easier..."

"Well, if you really care, there is a way you can forgive yourself ..." Borsalino joked mischievously, "but it's time for dinner and you probably skipped lunch too, being locked in your office all day."

"Hmm, I'm going to change and arrive."

\----------------------------------------------

Sakazuki, having disposed of the shirt he was wearing around the house, remaining alone with a pair of short, had just lain down under the black silk sheet, the only lighting in the room came from the lampshade over the mahogany nightstand on his side of the huge double bed when from the bathroom, communicating with the bedroom, came the slightly deformed voice of his partner.

"You know, Saka, I was thinking that maybe next month we could take a couple of weeks of vacation and go somewhere you and me … ”

There was a pause followed by the sound of running water and the tinkling of something against a glass, most likely the toothbrush. Borsalino emerged from the bathroom to stop at the foot of the mattress "... maybe in Dressrosa or Sabaody".  
In the meantime, Sakazuki had abandoned his head on the pillow, almost enraptured by sleep, if it wasn't for the moans he occasionally expressed as confirmation that he was listening.

While Borsalino's gaze lingered on the other man's forms a bold thought made its way into his head, certainly, the work of airliner pilot had undoubtedly many advantages: an excellent wage, discounted tickets, the opportunity to always savor different cultures but all at the price of private life and family. He had two weeks of rest each month and it was exactly 15 days that evening since the last time he was able to enjoy a pinch of intimacy with the other police officer. Obviously they kept themselves in touch frequently on the phone and had to admit that on more than a few occasions they had lingered in conversations that ended between panting and words of affection whispered in the darkness of their respective rooms hundreds of kilometers away.

In silence and with extreme calm Borsalino slipped the flap of the sheet that covered Sakazuki up to his waist from under the mattress and slipped into the bed between his partner's legs.

"What are you doing?" the latter asked, narrowing one eye to observe the intentions of the other who continued to be immersed under the sheet.

"Shhh ... don't worry, close your eyes and relax."

Borsalino grabbed the sides of the policeman who jumped at the contact and then started to lay a series of delicate kisses just above the navel. He knew how sensitive Sakazuki was, it was enough to find the right points and he could now say that he had years of practice on the subject. He slipped his right hand along the side upwards until he tightened the pecs between his fingers, starting to massage it slowly as he continued to fondle his partner's lower belly with kisses, stopping only when his lips touched the elastic of the trousers - meanwhile, the man's breath began to become heavy and irregular. No matter how hard he tried, Borsalino never failed to get excited seeing a big and impressive man like Sakazuki melt like butter for simple stroking.

When a not-so-well-concealed moan came to his ears, he decided it was time to raise the bar, the same hand that until a few seconds before was intent on tormenting a nipple disappeared under the sheet to grab the hem of the captain's shorts, who in the meantime had arched his head back, lowering them just enough to free the now turgid erection.

Borsalino did not know why at that moment in his mind the thought of their first time together was resurfacing at that moment, but he let out a smile at the memory of his expression initially surprised and then amused to discover the generous size of the other. He himself had been repeatedly informed of his size by the various partners with whom over time he shared the bed, yet Borsalino had managed to lose that childish battle with Saka. Thinking about it, not much had changed since then, he had to admit that Sakazuki always offered a magnificent view regardless of how many years had passed, with the difference that now the still delicate forms of boy had made way for those of a man done and finished.

He returned to reality allowing the memory to dissolve and he realized that under the sheet the air was starting to get heavy, but he wanted to tease the other a little more. He grabbed the erection and then ran his tongue from the base to the tip, felt the body under him jump, took the tip in his mouth, massaging the base with his hand, spitefully stroking a prominent vein.

"Mhhf ... Borsalino ..."

"What?" The other hand let go of Sakazuki's side to get into his own pants with the intention of relieving at least a little the tension he felt between his legs.

"Stop teasing me"

"Ohh? Consider it as payment for forgetting me today ... "At that moment Borsalino, rubbing his body against that of the partner to increase the dose, came out from under the covers, pointing his elbows on the mattress on the sides of the head of the man beneath him. He took advantage of it to admire the results of his work: Sakazuki was bright red, his eyes half-closed and his breath panting - Borsalino could not restrain himself and he bent down just enough to catch his mouth in a kiss. A few moments later he felt a pair of arms encircle his torso, gave a slight push with his hips rubbing his erection against that of the policeman.

"You are lucky that tomorrow I have the day off and I don't have to wake up early, otherwise you would have spent the night on the sofa"

"Hmmm ... how cruel you are, we haven't seen each other for two weeks and you welcome me like this?" Caught by yet another flash of malice, he took the other man's right red ear between his teeth "I missed you Saka"


	2. The little things

The next morning, the sun shone high in the clear summer sky and its light filtered through the curtains. The first thing Sakazuki became aware of was the weight of a body against his side and an arm that surrounded his waist. His still clouded gaze rested on the foreign hand resting above his stomach attracted by a faint flash of light that was reflected on the black gold ring around the ring finger, the twin of what he himself wore on his left hand.

"Morning," Borsalino's sleepy voice reached his ears while the latter began to stretch to lie on his back. Pointing his elbow, the younger one raised himself on his right side so as to be able to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock on the bedside table that marked the past eight - last night had worn him out more than expected. He felt the other man moving behind him and a few moments later a pair of lips lingered on his jaw.

"Hey Saka, how about we catch something as we go downtown and then stop in some nice restaurant for lunch? Maybe towards the coast ... "

"Mhhh ... what do you have to do there?"

"A tour mainly, and I wanted to stop at the mall to get the paint"

"Ah, yes ... I remember that a few days ago you told me you wanted to whitewash the living room," Sakazuki pushed aside the sheet and sat on the bed, opened one of the drawers of the bedside table and after recovering what he needed he got up, naked, thanks to last night's activities.

"Ohh ... what a beautiful sight"

"Shut up, Borsalino" replied the policeman lightly as he headed for the bathroom "Or you’ll go alone."

The admonished, jokingly, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

\-------------------------------------------------

"After all these years I still haven't figured out how your blood sugar hasn't killed you," Sakazuki confessed, as he brought the cup of hot coffee to his mouth and watched his companion bite into the sugary donut, not that he intended to bring out the classics parental warnings such as brushing one's teeth or trying to follow silly diets, as for the fact that he just could not understand how someone could still want to eat the first mentioned dessert after having already swallowed two.

Borsalino, who was now chewing on the last bite, gave him an amused smile before wiping his mouth with a paper towel.

"It's my secret, how do you think I got so big?"

"That is said for vegetables, not-" the policeman was interrupted mid-speech by the ringtone of the cellphone coming from his pants pocket, pulling out the device he observed the screen. "I have to answer, it's the office"

"Ohh come on, now! It's your day off, surely the central won't explode if they don't hear you for a day"

"There is no rest in this type of work, I'll be right back" Having said that, he moved away in the direction of the automatic doors of the inner garden of the shopping center to have some calm from the noise of the voices that echoed in the gallery.

Left momentarily alone, Borsalino lent himself to finish what was left of his cappuccino when a voice behind him interrupted him.

"Hey, old man..."

Turning his head to the side he focused on the figure of his new irreverent interlocutor: a tall man, with a beautiful physique, curly raven hair framed his face while with a gesture of the hand he was undoing the sunglasses with round lenses revealing the dark eyes.

"Kuzan" smiled the elder of the two, who stood up to embrace his friend "You are not a kid anymore if you hadn't noticed"

"Are you joking? I have a face that even high school kids envy" joked the latter in return. "When did you come back?"

"Just yesterday afternoon, straight across the western sea"

“Oh, wow, and I sometimes find it hard to leave the house to go to the supermarket. But tell me, how's it going? How come I find you here?"

"Oh I’m all right, I had come for a ride to try to buy the necessary to repaint the living room."

The newcomer meanwhile dropped his gaze on the table next to them still occupied by the saucer and a couple of white porcelain cups "I guess you're not here alone ..." he didn't even try to hide the hatred with which he pronounced the phrase, not that he had never looked favorably on the companion of his longtime friend but since their last clash things had irreparably broken their friendship, no matter a couple of years had passed by now.

"No, Saka had to answer an urgent call.”

"Mh mh, whoever is on the phone I hope he gets a headache."

"Ohhh come on Kuzan, now you're just being a kid"

"Yes, sorry ... You're right" As tense as his relationship with the police officer, he did not want to offend Borsalino in any way. In that instant Kuzan noticed the figure of Sakazuki go through the automatic doors on the other side of the gallery. 

"I would like to stay here a little longer to hear your stories about the beautiful girls you meet on your travels, but perhaps it is better for me to leave."

The pilot turned his head in the same direction in which the younger man was looking "It's been a while since we met, if you would like to stay I would like it, it's not that he can kick you in a public place, especially so crowded"

Kuzan grinned scratching his chin "Hey, I am offended ... Probably the mastiff on steroids stretches me first but you can swear that I’d leave some bruises on him," he started to back away a few steps "Maybe when I’ll find a bit of free time from work one of these days we can meet and go out."

"Sure, bye Kuzan."

The latter smiled, waved a hand and headed for the escalators. A few seconds later Sakazuki stopped at his side, he didn't need to turn around to see on his companion's face the cloudy expression that had taken possession of his features, while with his eyes he followed the figure in the distance that had now reached the first floor.

"Are we going?"

Borsalino put his arm on the policeman's shoulders and started walking towards the DIY store. The smell of plastic and paints soon made their way into their nostrils as they entered the shelves until they reached the wall adorned with samples and cans of color.

"What do you say if instead of white we repainted the walls in red?"

"No."

"Yellow?"

"Absolutely not."

"Red with yellow stripes?" continued to tease the older one.

"I won't waste a second of my time explaining how bad this is."

Chuckling, Borsalino crouched down to reach the row of white-painted paints. He had never had problems when the occurrence asked to reach higher places, like Sakazuki after all, both men generously exceeded two meters in height, another pair of sleeves were instead the shelves and the lowest objects. He still remembered those ridiculous scenes when, as a boy, he studied to get his driving license forced in a car that was not very suitable for people of his stature or when he still took the train to go to class.

With everything in hand, the two men were about to get into the car. Meanwhile Borsalino placed the cans in the trunk, Sakazuki sat down at the wheel and started the engine.

"Did you already have in mind some particular place where you want to get lunch?" the latter asked fumbling in the glove-compartment to extract a lacquered wooden box from which he extracted a cigar.

"Yes, remember that place where we were the last time?" replied the other while, after closing the trunk, he took his seat on the passenger side. He patted the policeman's arm next to him as he pulled the crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his pants pocket. Sakazuki approached him with the ornate lighter he still held in his hand and lit it "... the one near the sea," and exhaled the smoke, then threw the ash out the window of the car that was starting to move.

\-------------------------------------------------- ---------------

The restaurant was very crowded despite it being a midweek lunchtime. From the kitchen came the sounds of pots and plates that clashed against each other dominated by the cooks who loudly passed the orders to the rest of the brigade. 

Borsalino stopped for a few seconds from his intent to roll the spaghetti on the tip of the fork to observe Sakazuki, sitting on the other side of the table, who was fossilized with his gaze on the figure of a young blond waiter a few meters away intent on flirt with a couple of female customers.

"I didn't know you liked them so young, Sakazuki" the older man let out a laugh before putting the fork to his mouth.

"You fool ... Don't rant about certain idiocies" The policeman's tone was little more than a whisper, while maintaining a sinister cadence "I was trying to remember where I had already seen him, his face is not new to me."

At that moment the hinged doors that allowed access to the kitchens opened wide, leaving an elderly man, blond and with a long mustache, in all probability the owner of the restaurant, who, limping slightly, appeared in front of the young waiter. The young man at the shout of "Sanji, go back to the kitchen to do your damn job," went out of the scene murmuring to himself about an old man who had to mind his own business.

Sakazuki jumped up from his chair “He is one of the companions of that damned Monkey D. Luffy. "  
"Captain Garp's nephew?"

"The central was full with reports about about those gangs of kids who always create disorder in every corner of the city" He started to move towards the doors from which the young waiter had vanished a few minutes before when he was stopped by the pilot's voice.

"Sit back, it is not worth ruining the day off for scuffles among teenagers"

As the officer saw it, those who were already starting to show signs of social deviance when they were young would not change their ways once grown up, on the contrary. Evil and crime had to be nipped in the bud, only in this way society would be purified. His legs, however, were blocked by the thought of having to spend also that day of "freedom" to unravel the bureaucracy of the office, only to see the blonde again on the loose the next morning, if not before.

Borsalino smiled under his mustache when the table tilted under the weight of his companion who, sitting back on the chair, had put his elbows on the surface.

"You know, I remember a grumpy and impetuous boy I met years ago ..." He began pouring wine into the glass "... I haven't heard from him for a long time, he got home with a black eye and a few bruises every now and then, but I heard he then streaked straight and entered the police ... "

Sakazuki snorted. Borsalino laughed.


	3. It all started with a bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, yes... This chapter is much, much longer that the others two, but I was having so much fun that I didn't notice the words count. I'll try to balance them more in the future.  
> I hope you'll enjoy reading as much as I did writing it.

Two days later, the corridors of Marineford Police Station were more clogged than downtown streets at rush hour: telephones rang continuously; agents tirelessly paced back and forth; copiers screeched as if they were rehearsing the choir.

Not that normally the place was as silent as a desert, on the contrary, however, the chaotic moments that made the barracks look more like an anthill than a city office were sporadic. One of these moments, inevitable as the sunrise, came cyclically once a year with the anniversary of the city. Eight hundred candles were undoubtedly a nice milestone and, in honor of this, this year the mayor and the council had promised that the celebrations would be even more sensational.

Sakazuki was once again behind his desk, submerged with forms and paperwork so that he could not see the bottom. The man, bent over a map on which he methodically pinned something, was simultaneously busy in a heated conversation with someone on the other end of the phone.

"I don't care if you have to knock on every single door in the neighborhood to do it, that street must be cleared and closed immediately!" sheets flew from the desk because of the punch that had hit it.

At that moment the switchboard of the office rang, the officer, who had now become deaf to the rantings coming from the handset he held in his hand, knocked down the line with a brusque gesture, then press the answer button on the device on his right.

" What is it?!" he growled into the microphone.

For years, many people had scornfully nicknamed him "government dog" or "rabid dog". There are those who claimed it was because of his almost blind loyalty but also those who claimed it was because of his attitudes, among the latter there was also the secretary who had the thankless task of passing communications to his boss.

"Sir, I apologize if it's a bad time, but Captain Smoker requested that you urgently go to the disused S.M.I.L.E. building in the northern district to meet him"

"Tell the captain that I have a lot more to do and get back to his position immediately instead of hanging around at a time like this if he doesn't want me to tear his grades off his shoulders!"

Captain Smoker was, objectively, a more than valid agent, skilled and resolute. By his standards there were few other names that managed to emerge in that gang of slackers, including Momonga, Hina, Doberman or Onigumo. Unfortunately unlike the last four Smokers had a bad habit of ignoring orders from time to time.

"Sir ... there are two corpses" 

\-------------------------------------------------- -----------------

The S.M.I.L.E. was once a factory owned by a couple of partners, both scientists, famous for the processing of chemicals and for the scandal from which it was struck a few years ago when its affiliation with the known criminal Kaido was discovered. The news quickly circulated all the newspapers and television networks until the factory was closed. Only the skeleton of the structure and the now dirty and dusty sign remained of the majesty of the past.

On this day it was no longer just shadows and ghosts that occupied the old building. When the chief's car arrived, it was greeted by a small crowd of journalists who had already arrived at the site who, at least for the moment, was being kept at bay by a couple of police patrols from the department.

After passing the large iron gates, Sakazuki parked the car in the courtyard a few meters from the SC van, and, once he got out, he was immediately joined by a young policewoman, Tashigi. The long black hair gathered in a tail swayed pushed by the wind that had risen that morning. It was hot, he managed to see that the young woman had already adjusted her glasses three times on her nose on the way from the front doors to reach her superior, most likely because of the sweat.

"Mr. Sakazuki, Captain Smoker asked me to accompany you inside" 

"Yes, let's hurry up"

In the imposing open space that was on the first floor, Smoker was surrounded by SCI men who were gathering evidence around the crime scene while he was talking a few steps away from a multitude of numbered markers scattered on the ground.

"I hope you have more than a valid reason for making me come here, captain" Sakazuki's rough baritone echoed in the huge empty cavern "I am very busy these days and at 16.00 I have a meeting in the town hall"

Smoker turned to the superior, "This morning we received a report that two corpses had been found in the abandoned SMILE factory: apparently a group of silly kids who were looking for new ways to break the neck bone had entered here, plus a man who lives nearby while walking the dog out last night says he saw cars in the courtyard and a light coming from the windows on the first floor. One of the bodies has not yet been identified, there was no trace of documents "

The white-haired captain approached a conspicuous patch of dried blood on the ground "One is called Dogen, died of stab wounds, he was secretary of the Council," then continued a few meters until a second red patch against the wall of concrete "to this other they shot, straight between the eyes, however the ballistics excludes that it was the other that detonated the shot ..."

"Captain, if you don't want to be directing traffic, I suggest you go straight to the point"

It was very fast, almost imperceptible, but for a brief moment the irritation made its way onto the face of Smoker who called Tashigi back. The latter handed her colleague a file from which she extracted a photo which she handed to Sakazuki.

"I called you here, sir, not because of the murder itself, but because of this ..."

The gaze of the older officer rested on the photo he was now holding in his fingers. The blood began to boil like magma in his veins. The chest of the second victim was immortalized on that piece of paper, from which the symbol of the Revolutionaries' band showed off, almost mocking him.

“Do not mention it to anyone, much less with the newspapers, we cannot afford to have such news disclosed on the eve of the city parade! We will deal with it in a couple of days, when this is over. "

Sakazuki strode the road to his car. Before entering, he glanced at the crowd of journalists who had now massed against the gates.

\-------------------------------------------------- ----------------------

It was now six in the evening, after almost three days of work, Borsalino was finally finishing painting the last portion of the wall.

He stopped to glance out from the immense glass window that dominated the living room of the twelfth-floor apartment: the sky had begun to be tinged with a candid orange tinge and the moon could already be seen high. The streets were still teeming with people and cars who were about to come home for dinner, a few meters beyond the apartment building a team of workers was finishing up the last banners for tomorrow's party.

He loved that view, he had spent whole evenings on the large terrace looking at the sea that was the backdrop to the city in front of him while it shone with its lights, his weakness had always been for the sunsets, however.

Unfortunately, His thought was blown up by the noise of the front door which closed, with a certain crash, behind him. He saw Sakazuki who, muttering something to himself, was about to get rid of the hat and the imperious jacket which he subsequently hung on the hanger while remaining in his shirt.

"Ohhh Saka, were you trying to set a new record? At home before seven in the evening? "

"Very funny." 

Without adding more, the policeman headed towards the bedroom, accompanied by the chuckle of Borsalino who, after having dipped his brush in the paint pan, silently resumed his work.  
When he came out a few minutes later, changed in more comfortable clothes: a black sleeveless shirt and sweatpants, the older man was giving the finishing touch of white to the wall.

"So tell me: who are you up against tonight?"

Sakazuki let out a disapproving sound "Blame it on that sleeve of incompetent people who can't carry out a simple directive, and the town hall only complicates things ..." he paused as if to gather ideas "... also this morning they were found two bodies, one of which seems to have been part of those damned Revolutionaries, the other was in close relations with the five members of the Council "

"Mhhh heaven ..." even the walls could pick up sarcasm and fake concern in the pilot's tone.

"There is nothing to joke, Borsalino, because of criminals like these the city, worst, the whole country is becoming a den of perdition," in the heat of the speech, Sakazuki had approached his companion, now no more than half a meter, "and must be purged".

Borsalino, without taking his eyes off the hand that was continuing to carry out the vertical movements methodically, spoke.

"Ahhh ... here is the executioner who wants to make his banners of justice flutter to the wind... as if you did not like chasing criminals"

The pilot had known him for too many years, almost as if he was an older brother. Of course, apart from going to bed together, it was easy for him to unmask him.

"It's my job," the younger man's tone had lost its impetus and had returned more peaceful.

"Oh sure, sure ... you know what you need, uh?"

Borsalino had just given the last hit when, brush still in his hand and wet with paint on his hands and other parts of the body, turned to face the policeman. The latter looked at him from head to toe, giving him a suspicious look.

"... A pinch of fun," revealed the answer, the amateur painter made a dry movement with the instrument whose bristles dispersed a myriad of drops of white color that found in Sakazuki the perfect target. The floor was safe, so much that it covered the tarpaulin.

Still half-paralyzed with disbelief, the policeman did not even notice that in the meantime the other man had placed the murder weapon safely in the basin. 

When he started to speak, snarling something like "what the hell were you thinking?" or "are you crazy?" he was blocked by Borsalino's hand which rested on his neck. He could feel that sticky feeling of the fresh paint on his skin, while the other still free landed on his stomach leaving a fine example of cave painting on his dark shirt.

The latter began to apply pressure, and in less than a couple of seconds he felt the wall against his back. The other's face was a few centimeters from his so much that he could feel his warm breath on his cheek.

"Orrr...," began the older, dragging the last letter more than necessary, "we could use your ardor for ... something else" the voice had become more pronounced and deep.

The hand that lay on his torso began to make his way under the now irreparably stained shirt, lightly stroking his abdominals, finally resting on the pelvis bone while his thumb teased him with slow circular movements.

Borsalino showed no sign of wanting to begin the kiss which would have marked his demise, in fact, the bastard stood there staring at him, letting that cursed hand and breathing on his neck lead him to the extreme so that he would have given in and made the first move.

And Sakazuki capitulated.

Their mouths collided in an ardent struggle for supremacy. The pilot, in the heat, adhered his body against that of his companion while the latter brought his own hands around his neck to deepen the kiss even more.

Borsalino brought his right leg between Sakazuki's, pressing against the member who was slowly beginning to harden in his pants. The officer detached his lips from those of the other, who in response began to leave a trail of hot kisses along his jaw, and spoke with labored breathing.

"Stop ... I have no intention of doing it against the wall, dirty with paint to the tip of the hair ..."

The older one broke off the sweet torture he was perpetrating on his neck to raise his head and look him in the eye.

"Mhhh ... you never had the slightest sense of adventure, Saka," just to be mischievous, he pushed his hips against those of the man stuck against the wall.

Sakazuki left himself be dragged down the corridor while the older man's hands were not about to stop their exploration.

Only after crossing the threshold of the bathroom did the two bodies separate. He would never have expressed it, he had already given Borsalino too many concessions in the last ten minutes, but the policeman was slightly sorry for the loss of the sensation of the other's body against his. It doesn't matter, he decided, he would fix it shortly.

For his part, Borsalino, after leaving his companion free, had approached the sliding and semitransparent doors of the shower which he opened to reach the shiny steel knob and start to let the water flow.

"Hey Saka, if I leave the cold water ... do you think you can make it hot?" the latter began by winking over the shoulder to the man standing not far from him, whose right hand was intent, not a little hidden, to palm the erection through his pants.

In response, this time, he was the one who found himself with his back against the plexiglass of the cabin which vibrated a lot on impact. Sakazuki had tormented his throat until he came down to the point of junction of the collarbones while with rather impetuous movements he tried to pull his shirt off him.

"Oi ... slowly ... I wouldn't want to end up in the hospital because we broke the shower doors ..." that fake reproach apparently came to the other's ears which slowed his movements enough to allow Borsalino to help his partner have both paint-encrusted shirts removed, which ended up somewhere on the bathroom floor. He squeezed the tattooed breastplate in front of him and, with an almost unheard of slowness, went down the length of his torso until his hand disappeared, grabbing the other from inside the boxers briefs.

"Are you really excited or am I wrong?"

He received no response other than a groan and a push from his hips to seek relief in the friction against his palm, the officer had never been a very vocal one in bed, although to be honest even in everyday life he was not, unlike him.

He was struck by a shock along his spine when he felt that one of Sakazuki's hands had also slipped into his pants. It was no secret that the pilot lived to tease but there were moments when he too reached the limit. This was one of those times.

In a couple of lightning movements both got rid of the last clothes and entered under the jet of warm water. Borsalino's arms encircled the younger man's bull neck to drag him to himself and start yet another clash between their lips.

Sakazuki grabbed the other man by the hips, had it not been for the throbbing member between the legs, he would have lingered further in that sweet torture until one of the two had to part due to lack of oxygen. With little grace he turned the other body so that it gave his back, crushing it against the damp tiles. He sank his teeth into the hollow of the pilot's shoulder as he rubbed the erection between his buttocks.

"Mhhh ... you're cruel Saka ..." In the hope that the other would hurry, Borsalino brought his fingers to close around his member.

The younger one firmly grasped the base of his erection by lining up, then giving a dry push with the pelvis. He hid a hiss of pleasure by sinking his teeth even deeper into the muscle of the body in front of his, stopping just in time before causing lacerations.

Borsalino let out a groan. He did not deny that he had a soft spot for these situations where Sakazuki, taking the initiative, brought to light that more rough and animalistic side that the older one knew was rooted in a small space deep in his soul which, however, he kept locked up, to adapt to those attitudes more appropriate to the stars that he wore on his shoulders. He loved that feeling, so primitive and fierce.

Sakazuki was not a kind man, he had never been, not even when he was youger. His thrusts were dry and deep, almost feral. However, he never forgot his partner. The policeman broke away from one of the pilot's hips to join the latter's hand still between his legs.

"All right?"

"Keep doing your job, you little dog ..." teasing the officer, in these situations, never disappointed.

A short time later, the condensation had now covered the shower panels, the breathing of both men had become heavy and the Sakazuki’s movements began to become more irregular and faster until the latter's guttural moan echoed between the walls of the bathroom.

"Awww Saka ... I was so close ... I hope you don't intend to abandon me like this ..."

After a few seconds of recollection, he resumed a final series of firm and profound thrusts that stopped only when Borsalino's head tipped backwards on his shoulder while he also reached the apex. 

Bringing his arm behind him, the pilot gave a couple of strokes on the other's side to mimic those gestures of affection that are normally practiced with dogs.

"Mhhh ... I’m almost tempted to ask your colleagues at the police station to make you angry more often"

Sakazuki moved away from his partner to turn around and grab the bottle of shampoo from the small shelf in the shower.

“Wait tomorrow night then. I'm sure that by the end of the party you will see a volcano "

"Ohhh? I think tomorrow I will be more busy admiring an angry dog in full uniform, "he replied, grabbing the bottle that the other was offering him and taking advantage of it to snatch one last kiss from him.

\-------------------------------------------------- ---------------

The next day Borsalino woke up when the other half of the bed was now empty and cold. Although the parade would have taken place no earlier than eleven, Sakazuki had already left the house when the first lights were still timidly peeking into the sky. Rubbing his eyes, he got out of bed while, still intent on removing the veil of sleep, he began to get ready.

Since he started his career, almost over thirty years ago, he did not always manage to attend the city anniversary party. When he was a boy, together with Kuzan and a never too convinced Sakazuki, they always sneaked out in the evening to watch the celebrations that culminated with a myriad of fireworks. Of course, by his age he was no longer interested in pyrotechnic games, however spectacular they were, but more at the sight of a certain gloomy officer who paraded along with his department.

Dear old Kuzan, as promised, got himself in touch just the day before, announcing that on the occasion of the holiday he had unraveled his work and, if he wanted, in memory of the old days they could party together all day. The pilot accepted without hesitation, after all Sakazuki would have been busy all day.

When Borsalino got out of the car, people had already started to flow towards the immense main avenue that led to the large square of the city: families, couples, boys and children swarmed in the streets closed to traffic for the occasion with a festive air.

Without delaying further, he began to walk towards the place where he and Kuzan agreed to meet.

\-------------------------------------------------- --------

As always, Sakazuki had left the house early in the morning. The city was still asleep and even those people who had commitments on Saturday were still in their beds given the day of celebration.

The police station was a grave compared to the day before, the only noises were the voices of some agents who were disconnecting from the night shift who complained that with the shouts and the hustle of the looming celebrations they would have enjoyed very little rest.

The clinking of medals and other decorations that echoed with each movement he took made his presence known well ahead of schedule to the group that was advancing in the opposite direction to him. These immediately dodged as he passed and began in a chorus of "Good morning, sir".

The officer personally found it desecrating and stupid to show off his high uniform for a silly town party. He was unable to digest the fact that he had to give up a day's work to attend an unnecessary parade just because his degree required him to do so. When he took up the post of general manager, he faced the Council on the matter, but with the blood that still boiled, he had to put his soul in peace.

The underground parking lot of the station, unlike the offices, was noisy and full of people, Sakazuki observed. Some men were putting the finishing touches on the vehicles that would be parading in a few hours.

He scanned the area to make sure everything was in order. However, his gaze was captured by a couple of young people. Normally he didn't commit to remembering the names of anyone who wasn't an officer, he had other things to worry about and, frankly, he didn't care, much less if it was simple agents like the two subjects.

These, however, were the exception to the rule. Their names were imprinted in his brain, especially the shorter one who, in a very clumsy way, tried to fasten the sheath of the saber of order to the belt without succeeding in the laughter of his friend.

"Coby!" barked the superior.

In fear, the young man dropped the weapon on the ground but picked it up again in a swift movement. The buzz that filled the room until a few seconds ago stopped.

“See that you respect the uniform you wear! As far as I'm concerned, if it weren't for Garp, you'd still be in the academy. "

The great event was yet to begin and a vein was already throbbing dangerously on his neck.  
\-------------------------------------------------- -

"I haven't been able to eat this things for years," said Borsalino proceeding to tear a bite from one of the fish balls as he walked along the tree-lined street of the park.

At his side, Kuzan stopped sipping the sweet drink purchased a moment ago at one of the stalls, which for the occasion had occupied part of the green area, and then answered.

"Ara Ara ... While traveling you have eaten more different dishes than most people can do in ten lives, yet they drool over an appetizer made by an old woman at a fair"

"By now you are an old man too, yet you still cannot cook even a piece of meat without the neighbors having to call the firefighters."

"But I know how to make granita to scream," The shorter of the two gave a playful shoulder to the other, then continued.

"Maybe, when I left the police I should have opened an ice cream shop", he scratched his bristly chin in a fake gesture of perplexity.

"Oh? Does the role of the private detective start to tighten you, Kuzan? "

"No ... of course, when you get the tenth call of the day from the lady who is not really convinced that her husband is actually doing overtime in the office, it starts to get somewhat monotonous," he stopped to take a sip from the straw.

"On the other hand, I am an inexhaustible source of city scandals"

"Mhhh ... This last thing hasn't changed since we went to school. Except that at the time you were on the other side of the barricade," said the pilot. “Or have you already forgotten all the castigations that the old instructor Zephir gave you? "

“Oi, if you haven’t forgotten you were right beside me at least half of those times” 

The detective laughed, followed by Borsalino. In that instant they were overtaken by a group of boys, who were running towards the nearby attractions, of which the colored lights could be glimpsed through the hedges and the crowns of the trees.

"How could I forget it ... My hands still hurt from rubbing every single window ... more than once."

"If memory does not deceive me, the last time we found ourselves in that situation was because we had exceeded the return time because of this party," Kuzan got rid of the now empty can by throwing it in a basket. "And I also remember that I was ripping you up at the shooting game ... "

Borsalino turned his head to look his friend in the eye, his eyebrow raised behind the amber lenses.

"You remember badly."

"Let’s bet, then?" challenged the detective, before starting to run in the same direction towards which the small group had just disappeared.

They paid no attention to those people who along the way turned to look at them with judging glances, murmuring in a low voice that they were now too old to behave like children.

\-------------------------------------------------- ----------------------

The group, made up of half a dozen men, had arrived as scheduled, and in perfect time, in front of the huge white building decorated with windows and colonnades that was the Council building.

Sakazuki smoked, and not because he was angry, or at least he was no more angry than when he left the station with his men, but because of the sun that raged incessantly on his head.

His task was to welcome and escort the five most renowned members of the government for the duration of the celebration. Members who were not about to reveal themselves apparently, making the schedule of commitments slide more and more.

They would have to rejoin the rest of the team to parade aboard the cars along the main arteries of the city, throwing themselves to journalists who were already besieging the streets and the skies for some photos, and then make a stop in the town hall where they would have spent hours chatting about politics . Sakazuki was now expert enough to know well what kind of politics they preferred: the white one with bubbles, preferably aged five, six years.

A useless, pompous waste of time.

And he would have the job of the dog on a leash. The thought involuntarily made his teeth grind.

The sound of the massive door that opened aroused him from his thoughts. While observing the five politicians, fully dressed, walking down the marble steps; a part of himself was relieved that they would not have accumulated further delay. The other part, the one who took care not to show in the presence of the quintet of men, would have liked to give vent to his indignation and turn the heels back to where he had come from.

"Sakazuki," began the bald man, with the birthmark on his head and a pair of thick mustaches graying by age, "I hope everything is in order".

He did not even wait for the reply from the officer that had already entered one of the machines together with another colleague. A couple more passed him, all without even deigning him a glance, to get into the second car.

The fifth councilor, an old man with a thick beard and long white hair, stood in front of him holding his stick in his wrinkled hands.

"Have you changed the path that the procession will follow as I told you?"

Bastard, as if he didn't spent the last day becoming mad to indulge in that stupid request made in the last minute.

"Yes, I took care of everything"

"Well, let's go ahead."

When the policeman turned, with the aim of reaching the car that had been assigned to him for the parade, he was blocked in his footsteps by the stick that the other man held in his hand.

“Let's swap the car for the procession, Sakazuki. I would like to enjoy the view from a more advanced position in the row," The officer looked at him sideways from under the visor of the hat but did not say a word, so the other continued.

“You will have nothing to regret from my driver "

Sakazuki would have gladly exhibited one of his famous growls. He had understood for some time now that those old men had the hobby of degrading him to a mere puppet for their delights. Frankly, he wouldn't even be surprised if they competed with each other to whom humiliated him the most. The watchdog of the five councilors.

Biting his tongue, he turned to the car closest to him and opened the door. He followed with his gaze the figure of the old man, who did the same with what was initially his car a few meters away.

He felt even hotter than before, this time he did not know whether because of the sun or the rising blood pressure. He glanced at the sky to see a helicopter that was noisily passing over their heads towards the center.

He took his seat on the leather rear seats of the new car and angrily closed the hatch.

The line of vehicles finally started.  
\-------------------------------------------------- ------

Kuzan walked with his head down, the step was now devoid of the previous vigor.

"I told you you were wrong," sang Borsalino.

The detective closed his eyes and let out an amused sigh. "Don't pull it, old man. I would have won had it not been for that gust of wind that caused the ball to deflect. "

He stopped the sentence when he felt the sensation of something soft against his neck. Turning his head, the younger one saw a stuffed monkey with an impertinent gaze perched on his shoulder. The prize won in the game just before.

"Mh, Mh ... sure ... and also for the gust before that, right Kuzannn?" began the monkey with a shrill voice as it moved it’s head to emphasize the words. It reminded him a lot of that show he watched as a child with funny shaped puppets.

"You are a very sassy monkey ... and yellow ... you remind me of someone," replied the curly-haired man. Borsalino's form was very blurred at the limit of his field of vision, currently engaged in that infantile ventriloquist performance.

“Did you know that the color yellow is said to favor concentration? It seems to me that it could do you a lot of goooood ... take me home with you. The nice guy behind here already has a big dog at home "

Kuzan rested his gaze on the hand that held the monkey's head, the black ring tight around the ring finger.

"Only if you promise to do well," he concluded grabbing the puppet.

When he retracted his arm, his attention was captured by the watch on his wrist, it was shortly before eleven o'clock.

"Better get moving, or we will only see the tail lights of the procession," proclaimed Kuzan.

Not that he cared about attending the parade, he had seen and lived it several times when he was still in the police. A waste of money and resources, he agreed with Sakazuki on this. The only thing he agreed on. 

When they arrived on the main avenue, the crowd had by now seized both sides of the road, the sea of people contained only thanks to the barriers that stretched for several kilometers. They could not get too close, but sight was certainly not a problem for people of their stature.

The first convoys, decorated with cockades and flags, had already started the march, coming from the large bridge that overlooked the river. The children on their parents' shoulders laughed and hugged each other to greet the men and women who paraded as the helicopters passed over their heads making a deafening noise with the blades.

The crowd turned in unison in the direction of the drum roll that echoed on the horizon. The signal that preceded the arrival of the councilors' cars accompanied by a handful of police officers.

It was, however, only moments later that a light and a roar ripped through the air. A thick blanket of black smoke engulfed the cars that were advancing and the spectators who were within several meters.

And after that it was chaos.


	4. The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter took a lot of time to come out but in these last months I fell a bit out of the one piece fandom.  
> However i hope you'll still enjoy the story.

The column of black smoke rose more and more threatening to cover the sky, almost as if to spare it the sight of that macabre spectacle that was taking place on the road. The flames released by the cars involved in the explosion widened every second, engulfing every form of fuel nearby.

The crowd, which until a few seconds before happily occupied the sidewalks and grandstands set up for the event, had dispersed into chaos like a stormy sea. The screams of terror of the people who, driven by the survival instinct, tried to run as far as possible from the danger mingled with the cries of those unfortunates who, for a cruel joke of fate, had chosen a space within the radius of the explosion as their observation point. Some policemen, rushing out of the cars they were parading on, did their best to provide help to the spectators involved while others tried to extract the injured colleagues from the carcasses of the vehicles.

In the hustle, the five councilors, completely unharmed if not for a more accelerated heart rhythm, fled to a safer place on board their slightly dented cars due to the fragments that the explosion had thrown in all directions.

The air was filled with the stench of burnt rubber and oil and, shortly after, the sound of sirens from the fire truck teams and ambulances arriving quickly on the scene.

While the first rescuers began to make their way through debris and broken glass to reach people who, smeared with blood, were writhing holding their wounds, the firemen deployed opened the water to quell the fire that slowly left behind metal remains so twisted to seem almost a bunch of sinister demonic sculptures.  
Above their heads, the TV helicopter continued to circle around like a vulture waiting for the prey to exhale its last breath and then slingshot over it ravenously.

Borsalino, dragged by Kuzan, was pulling his belt from the belt loops to tighten it as fast as he could around the leg of a woman lying on the ground. His hands were now stained with blood, his eyes and throat were burning from the smoke, in the general din he could barely hear the voice of his friend nearby, recalling one of the rescuers who was advancing in their direction carrying the medical bag on his shoulder . He stepped aside when the latter was at his side, leaving the woman in his care.

Moving away from the bustle of people and the metallic smell that smeared the area, the pilot inhaled a large breath of air in the hope of alleviating the feeling of constriction in his lungs. The noise produced by the helicopter that continued its circular movements in the sky was almost deafening.

In that moment of calm, a feeling of anguish pervaded him. He could not understand why, no matter how far he tried the order of his thoughts, these were restless, hurtling in his brain without being able to focus on any of them. The only clear thing was the absurdity of what had just happened. Despite being stained with bloodstains, scenes worthy of a film unfolding in front of his eyes, enough to expect that at any moment the sonorous voice of the director would shout "stop", the idea that it was all real and not a dream could not materialize in his mind.

Kuzan approached him, now also out of chaos. He was breathing heavily, certainly because of the lack of oxygen due to the smoke. He looked at him from head to toe, he was fine, nothing broken or that required medical attention, he was adorned with carmine red spots and smudges on his shirt and trousers, they were both far away enough from the explosion so injuries were an unlikely option. The older man understood that it was, as in his own case, the blood of the people he had helped, seemed like his good nature had not abandoned him when he had retired from the police. Of his two old companions from the Academy Kuzan had always been the one with the tender heart.

The detective's mouth moved into what must have likely been his name, but the realization, just in that instant, made its way like a boulder thrown at the speed of light in his head: Sakazuki.

He tried to keep that heavy feeling under control with the thought of his companion whom a few days earlier said that he would had took place either at the front or the end of the column when the procession would begin. The cars involved were in the middle. The reasoning reassured him a little. Surely the officer was busy managing his men in these last hours of crisis. Hours? No, only about fifteen, twenty minutes must had passed since the noise ripped through the air.

A hand that all of a sudden rested on his arm tore him from that whirlwind of thoughts.

"What's wrong with you? Are you feeling unwell?" concern leaked from the tone of Kuzan who finally got the attention of the man in front of him.

"No ... no, I'm fine ..." reported Borsalino. It was not his usual soft tone, but that seemed enough to reassure the detective that dropped his hand from his arm. In that moment, in the distance and out of their field of vision, shouts came from a couple of firemen, whom were asking for help to extract a couple of bodies from one of the cars "... I was just thinking about Sakazuki"

“The police chief always travels to the head of the department, did you forget it? He certainly jumped out of the car to start shouting orders to the men as usual "

"Yes, you are right ..."

The pilot desperately wanted to bask in that belief to quell those bad thoughts that beated insistently in the back of his brain. He tried in every way not to dwell on the fact that: if Sakazuki had actually been at the head of the march, they surely would have seen him or at least heard him when he got out of the car. But it was also true that between the dispersal of the people, the screams and the smoke they might had not paid it much attention. Or, if the policeman had actually been at the end of the parade, it was practically impossible for them to being able to see him from that position once the slaughterhouse exploded. Perhaps the only ones who could have been able to do it were the reporters on that damned helicopter.  
In his position Borsalino was giving his back to the road, where doctors and firefighters worked incessantly, his gaze lost in a shop window, he was not really paying attention to it or anything in particular, his efforts were aimed exclusively at convincing himself that he had no reason to worry like that. Kuzan instead, standing in front of him, was watching the unfolding of that macabre dance in the distance.

Borsalino did not know what pushed him to turn, if unconsciously out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend stiffen, if because he realized that the latter stopped breathing, holding his breath with his eyes focused on a specific point beyond his shoulders, or again for some stupid sensation dictated by the sixth sense or some similar devilry. Months later he still wasn't sure if it had been a good or a bad thing.

Three men were carrying a body just pulled out from one of the cars carcasses to the point where a couple of paramedics were already waiting. What not too far ago had once been a flawless adorned uniform was now dirty and tattered, even charred in some points, the man's face was a bright red mask, even the short strands of dark hair had been dyed for the most part in that bright color . The white sheet, which normally covered the stretcher, did not take long to assume a disturbing piebald pattern. In a few moments the body was loaded onto the ambulance and it left as quickly as the wind with sirens deployed.

Kuzan almost had no courage to look away from the emptiness left by the scene that just took place to turn to face the man now next to him.

\-------------------------------------------------------

_A boy was wandering the first floor of the military academy. He was tall, very tall, but the hint of beard that peeked over the chin and sides of the face betrayed the still young age. He walked slowly along the endless corridor covered by an equally long blue lane. On his right shoulder he was holding a bag, the abrasions on his yellow sand color and the badly tanned seams all around hinted that it was not brand new and that it had undoubtedly seen better days. In his free hand he held a sheet where, annotated with a careful cursive writing, was written a note: "BLOCK C - FIRST FLOOR - ROOM 10 A"._

_After passing several doors, on which plaques were hung with numbers not corresponding to those in his palm, he stopped. His attention captured by a "10 A" posted on the lustrous wooden surface to his left._

_He knocked a first time, but on the other side he received no response. He tried again, with more determination. The prospect of ending up arguing on the very first day with who was going to be his roommate for the next three years for breaking in without announcing himself didn't seem a good start. The second attempt was no luckier than its predecessor. Perhaps, more simply, there was still no one._

_With little desire to make the impression of a statue on the door all day, or at least until his partner had the intention of showing himself, if there was already one of course, he reached out for the handle and opened the door ._

_The room was not very large: a pair of single beds with two trunks at the ends, a pair of bedside tables and another small one with a couple of chairs close to the window from which daylight flooded the space. The room was empty, or at least devoid of life forms except the young man who had taken the first steps inside. One of the two beds, however, was already done, the blankets perfectly stretched without even the shadow of a wrinkle, as well as the pillow._

_The newcomer understood that his mysterious roommate must have arrived well before him and that, once he had finished fixing his things, had decided to go elsewhere. He placed the old bag on the free bed, a bare white mattress. With his hands finally free he opened the trunk at the foot of his new bed, sheets and blankets were diligently folded and collected in a pile._

_He was busy fixing the last fold of the sheet when a figure appeared on the doorway: another boy, about the same age as him, perhaps just a couple of years younger and a few centimeters shorter, his black hair were cut short but a few rebel tufts who just didn't want to be in line showed their presence._

_He left the blankets aside and approached what was clearly the owner of the second bed, holding out his hand._

_"Ah, hi, I'm Borsalino"_

_"You're late" The tone was hoarse and firm._

_The expression of the still unnamed young man was harsh, almost as if he was already an academy’s officer disappointed by a pupil's behavior rather than one of the latters._

_Borsalino, with his hand still outstretched, wanted to tell him that: no, he wasn’t late, it was the other who had presented himself well in advance, given that from the open door he could see other people that had just started to make their way up and down the corridor with the same uncertain step that he himself had not too much long ago of those who do not know where to go._

_"On the ground floor there is the procurement office, you have to go to them to collect the clothing" the tone of the voice was the same as before, gloomy and authoritarian._

_If it hadn't been for the obvious too young age, Borsalino could easily believe that he was really in front of an elderly officer and, he thought, the broad shoulders and build of the young man in front of him contributed to feed the idea._

_He almost felt like mocking him by saluting and shouting a "Yes sir!". But he abstained. Instead, he decided to go past his new grumpy companion to exit the door and head to the ground floor, he would have had to go there in any case, so it was better doing it now before all the other new students, who were starting to occupy the rooms along the corridor , had the same idea._

_He cursed the fate that gave him such a cold roommate, not to mention something much less cute. Of course he did not expect to find the relaxed and eccentric personalities he befriended on school desks, but the roommate with the broomstick stuck where the sun doesn’t shine wasn’t taken into consideration before._

_It was when he took a couple of steps out of the room that the stoic voice of the other reached his ears._

_"Sakazuki"_

_And he smiled while approaching the stairs._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The hospital’s waiting room was crowded with people. The relatives of the wounded were frightened and uneasy. They cried, wondering about the fate of their loved ones brought there by ambulances, they tried to console each other, some loners walked nervously up and down between the rows of chairs and plants in a vain attempt to release the tension.

Every now and then, from the automatic glass doors with the words "DO NOT ENTER", a nurse would come out and, with all the voice at her disposal, called in the patients' family members. That handful of seconds, from when the door opened with a hiss until a name was emitted in a loud voice, was eagerly awaited by the whole collective of people who, in unison, raised their heads with the hope of hearing their name praying to receive good news.

On a couple of more isolated seats at one corner of the room, Kuzan sat with Borsalino at his side. The latter engaged in rubbing his hands with wet wipes to remove the dried blood crusts on his skin. It was more than an hour now that he repeated those convulsive gestures endlessly. He had lost count of how many times he had asked him if he did not prefer to go to the bathroom to clean himself, surely he would have done it quicker and with better results. The older man replied that he preferred to stay here in case someone called him.

Borsalino did not seem as desperate as the other families who occupied the rest of the chairs, he didn’t cry, he didn’t exhibit himself on a nervous walk. He just sat there endlessly rubbing his already clean hands, his gaze absorbed in that task. Borsalino seemed like extraneous to this matter.

Yet Kuzan would never forget the scene when, as soon as they arrived at the emergency room, the pilot rushed to the nurse behind the counter and asked about Sakazuki, yes, about Sakazuki the police chief, while the latter cordially tried to tell him that he could not reveal certain information unless it was the officer's family. At that point the friend surprised both him and the boy in the green coat while, in the calmer tone he managed to pull out at that moment, he said "He is my husband".

The detective was sure enough, if not so certain that he could bet his head, that he was the only living thing being able to talk to know that secret, apart from the judge who officiated the ceremony of course, unless Sakazuki disposed of him soon after. He had known both Borsalino and Sakazuki for more than half of their lives and, although relations with the latter man had never been rosy, with the former was a completely different story. However, NEVER had he heard the pilot refer to the policeman as anything more intimate than "companion". Especially in public.

It was in that precise moment that he had the confirmation: Borsalino was not good, he was a collapsing mountain.

The umpteenth nurse came out of the glass doors. Kuzan saw Borsalino stopping abruptly his repetitive movements to spring up to his full height and head towards the middle aged lady. The sight would have even been comic if it had not happened in such circumstances, it seemed to look at a giant facing a gnome.

Kuzan sat in his chair, watching the pilot disappear behind the automatic doors following the lady. It was finally time for the truth.


	5. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again. This chapter is actually one of my faves and also one of the most importants and I hope you'll like it.
> 
> WARNING: At the end of the chapter there is a bit of description of physical injuries, it's nothing TOO bad but I'll put a warning anyway.

He is alive.  
That proclamed the doctor in the silence of the private room in which she had welcomed Borsalino upon his arrival after the nurse took leave of him.

His legs almost gave way, as if they had been freed from the effort of supporting an enormous weight. He began to breathe again, exhaling a resounding sigh of relief. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath so far.

The doctor didn’t finish, there was something else, the pilot had noticed. The woman had bitten her tongue to let him enjoy that little moment of comfort in learning such an important news, and to get rid of all the tension accumulated in the previous hours.

Then she continued.

"However ... the conditions in which he was brought here weren’t the best ..."

That "they weren't the best" was an understatement to say at least, thought the man. He was quite far way from the scene when the rescuers pulled Sakazuki out of the wreckage, but it was enough for him to understand that a couple of patches and a kiss would not be enough to get everything right.

He glanced at the closed door, behind which Sakazuki was laying on the hospital bed. All that remained was to hope that at least the consequences were not too serious. He brought his attention back to the doctor as she continued her speech.

“Before you get in, listen to me carefully: due to the explosion, a large part of the body’s right side suffered serious injuries. Shards were stuck in a large portion of the face, in the operating room we proceeded to remove the fragments. The wounds will heal in a month or two ... "

Borsalino observed the woman standing in front of him: pretty, in the prime of the years and certainly not the last of the unwary if already at such young age she held such a high-sounding position. She stopped, hesitated, as when in a lecture before the professor you forget the order of the topics to expose. She kept her hands in the pockets of her white coat, probably to conceal the agitation she felt, in vain, given that the pilot perfectly noticed that she was tormenting something between her hidden fingers. He would not have bet his head trying to figuring out the cause of her current attitude. Perhaps because of her still young age she wasn’t accustomed to giving this kind of news to family members, or perhaps the problem wasn’t so much the news per se as of WHO she was talking about.

A part of Borsalino thought it was not a good sign.

“… But he will remain disfigured. And there was no hope of saving the eye "  
He felt his heart miss a beat, perhaps even more than one. How would Sakazuki react when he woke up? Would the loss of part of his sight affect his job? Several times his companion had reminded him of how he hold absolutely no respect for those who relegated their lives exclusively behind a desk just after getting a promotion. Would the same fate be forced on him now?

He decided to put those questions aside in a corner of his head. He would have fished them out later, at a more appropriate time.

Sakazuki lost his eye, it was not a good news, undoubtedly far from what for hours, sitting on the chair in the waiting room of the hospital, he had longed to hear. Then he remembered the scenes he saw hours before at the city center and the far worse prospects that could have occurred.

The worst was over. For a moment, Borsalino really believed it, until a female voice broke the static silence of the room again.

“It pains me to add that: because of the very serious state of the injuries even the right arm was in very bad condition. The orthopedic did everything he could, but he and the surgeons had no other choice but to amputate above the elbow ... "

The doctor's mouth had not stopped moving continuing her speech throwing out a river of vowels and consonants, but silent words was all that reached the man's brain, who was grateful for the small row of chairs that was immediately behind his legs or he would surely ended up swallowed by the bottomless chasm that had opened under his feet.

He put his elbows on his knees and took his head in his hands. Was all this really real? That day could not have really been happening.

Surely he had fallen asleep in the living room in front of the TV and this was all a bad dream. Sakazuki would have woken him up, with the little grace that distinguished him, and would have ordered him to go to bed. The policeman would have been there, looking down on him: a perfect face with a neat beard and folded arms over his large chest. He himself would have enjoyed resisting and teasing the other man until the latter, impatient, would have dragged him out of the comfort of the large couch only to throw him abruptly on the bed.

The hand that landed on his shoulder was like a bucket of icy water that tore him out from that cathartic state. He met the clear eyes of the woman who stared at him with apprehension.

"I realize that the news is hard to assimilate, if you want to take a few minutes before entering please do."

With the painful realization that it was not a nightmare induced by his subconscious, Borsalino rose to his feet. Silently and slowly he walked the few meters that separated him from the closed door of the room. He hesitated to turn the handle, almost as if frightened that on the opposite side he would find a monster ready to devour him. But perhaps, much more likely, it was the fear of receiving the final confirmation that he could no longer escape from that new reality.

He entered.  
The room was lazily lit by the lamps while outside the darkness of the evening had already fallen on the city, the only sound was the constant beeps of the machines.

Sakazuki, unconscious and almost totally covered in bandages, was intubated while the machine scanned his breaths. Borsalino realized that he had involuntarily stopped looking at the empty space on the bed next to his companion where the arm should have been. If before, perhaps he had nourished some hope for the other's career, he was no longer too sure.

He sat down on the padded chair that lay in the corner. If the doctor had told him when the policeman would wake up, he had not paid attention to it. Hours? Days?

He would surely have had to go home to get a few things, and even to take a shower, his head had been losing blows in those last few hours but his nose was still working very well.  
The cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket, Kuzan wanted to know if he needed anything before he returned to home. He was about to reply to the message when he noticed just at that moment that his hand was shaking.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

_The sound of the whistle echoed loud in the air. Borsalino, like all his other comrades, stopped his run to catch his breath. The instructor had repeatedly praised his speed both in racing and obstacle courses, but he had also made it extremely clear that it was stupid pushing so hard if he did not have the stamina for the long distance._

_He peered at his companions scattered around him, all visibly proved: red in the face, out of breath and sweat permeated their foreheads. All of them, except one. His roommate for a couple of months now still looked perfectly fresh and athletic, as if those ten kilometers had not even touched him._

_"Form a line!" thundered the voice of the enormous man known as instructor Zephir._

_Within a matter of seconds, as if fatigue was only a distant memory, all the cadets lined up. Straight postures and arms at the sides, while the senior officer went through them one by one.  
Personally, Borsalino found the man really cool. He was exigent, much more than most of the others officers who worked at the academy, but he did not lack the spirit to be able to ignite the minds of his young students. He wasn’t even blind to talent, some pupils of the more advanced years joked that the old bear had a special nose for finding rough diamonds that with time he would patiently work till they’d shone. Rumors also said that years ago he had participated in the war and that, distinguished by his actions on the field, he had been highly decorated._

_"Ahh Borsalino. The first to complete the path, as always ... ”Zephir was now standing in front of him. Although he was the tallest of his companions, that man exceeded him in height by a couple of spans, had he been of normal stature, the enormous size of the instructor would have totally blocked the light of the sun that shone behind him._

_"... and you're less vented than usual. Very well, see if you can continue on this path. "_

_In all sincerity Borsalino was already mentally preparing himself for the usual lecture that was being repeated to him as a prayer for weeks by now: that arriving first is useless if he doesn't even have any more breath to stand up._

_“Good, break the line. It’s over for today, you are free for the next two hours before dinner is served "_

_Like a bunch of dogs to which the owner has just taken off the leash, the cadets began to disperse in all directions, most of them headed for the showers, place that he too would soon reach._

_Before leaving, however, he wanted to ask Sakazuki if in the following hours he wanted to accompany him in a study session in preparation of tomorrow’s test. History was by no means one of his favorite subjects, unlike the other, and a hand was gladly welcomed._

_Some students of his own year had asked him several times how he could endure that "emotionless, grumpy guy, with a stick perpetually stuck in his ass" which was his roommate, to which he simply replied with a shrug._

_To Borsalino, Sakazuki was enveloped with sandpaper, rough on the outside and that left abrasions everywhere if you got too close. However, in the months spent sharing common spaces he had noticed that, by rubbing off, that layer of sandpaper had thinned, so much that he swore to see the shadow of a crooked smile on the lips of the other when one evening he came out with one of his jokes._

_When he saw the subject of his attentions he noticed that he had been stopped by the instructor. He was too far away to hear what they were saying but it was obvious that the two were engaged in a conversation that would not have ended soon. They gave Borsalino the impression of a son talking to his father. Sakazuki, from the first moment, has always brought the maximum respect to all the officers who worked at the academy, but, at least for him, it was clear that he brought even higher respect to Zephir, if it was even possible. When the two then left together, he understood that his proposal had been rejected even before being born.  
In that instant, one of his companions who had not yet fled from the field approached him, attracting his attention._

_"Hey Borsalino, how does it sound if, after we took a shower, we go out in the city to get something?"_

_Kuzan was a few years younger than he was, indeed, he was even the youngest of the first year cadets, perhaps one of the youngest that the academy had ever had. If he wasn’t mistaking, his friend once explained that: even if still a couples of years under the minimum age required to be accepted into the military academy he managed to be admitted only thanks to an officer’s recommendation, such Grap or something like that, for which the director made a special exception, considering the talents of the young man. Borsalino thought he was really nice. Mutual sympathy since it didn’t took too much for them to make friends._

_"Mhh no ... not this time. There is the test tomorrow morning, and I wanted to study a little more. In truth I was going to ask Sakazuki to give me a hand but apparently I will be al aloooone… "signaled with a sly smile._

_The other abandoned his cheerful expression for a more frowning one._

_"What test?"_

_Kuzan was a golden boy, kind and talented, but surely among the talents that earned him early access to the academy the attention to school subjects wasn’t among them. Apparently that afternoon he wouldn't be studying alone._  
\----------------------------------------------------------------

In the following weeks Borsalino returned home just for a couple of hours and no more. The rest of the days were spent sitting on the chair in Sakazuki's room in a perfect imitation of a guardian statue similar to those that can be found outside the temples. He was aware that staring perpetually at the policeman's body would not wake him up earlier, that he could occupy time in other ways, but the idea of returning to the apartment only to find himself alone at the mercy of his thoughts did not appeal to him very much .

The only moments he was absent from his spot were to eat, to use the bathroom and occasionally indulge in a cigarette. Part of the reason he wandered as little as possible was to avoid seeing the mass of cameras and journalists who had piled up outside the hospital since the first day, even if sometimes some brave soul in disguise would still sneak in search of news. And the head of the police force reduced as a piece of raw meat was a pretty succulent scoop.

It was just one evening towards the end of the second week; the sun had just fallen behind the horizon leaving the last lights to die in the sky, which while he was returning after having pulled one of the rare puffs of air that he allowed himself outside noticed a couple of nurses who were entering the room where he had taken roots in the last period.

Initially worried, he had accelerated his pace to cover the distance that still separated him from the threshold, but when he finally peeked in he was inundated with a mixed feeling of amazement and relief.

Sakazuki had his eye free from the bandages, now the only eye, fixed on the nurse on his left, while she took care to tell him that he shouldn't try to speak because intubated and that in a few minutes they would begin the operation for the removal of the bulky and annoying respirator. After that, she left to join her colleague on the other side of the room to help her prepare for the materials needed.

The pilot occupied the empty seat left by the bed and, when he entered the narrow field of vision of his newly awaked companion, the brown pupil behind an eyelid still half closed stared straight into his.

"Hey, Saka ..." Borsalino began in a low voice. The policeman stared at him, but he was still half dazed "... You made me lose at least ten years of life" he continued, while he took the other's hand, now the only hand, in his own. He had no idea if Sakazuki could sense that something was wrong with his body, probably not, since for the moment he could hardly move his head. In those moments of silence he pondered if it was appropriate to break immediately the ice. Not that the younger one would never have noticed otherwise, but deep down his heart he thought that if it had been him in that hospital bed he would have appreciated that someone had prepared him, rather than discovering it at his own expense when he was lucid enough to realize his wasted body.  
There was a metallic jingle due to the two nurses who were making tools clash on the tray. The older man mentally took a deep breath and continued talking.

"Do you have any idea where you are?"

Sakazuki closed and reopened the eye: yes.

"And do you know why you ended up here?"

This time the officer's eye remained motionless.

"Do you remember the parade?"

The eye closed and reopened a second time: yes.

"You see ... while the vehicles was parading there was an explosion, some cars blew up, it looked like a movie ... apparently you had the front row seats. When you arrived in hospital two weeks ago you were in really bad conditions" Borsalino stopped his speech, looked away from his companion's dark iris to stare at their hands joined at the edge of the bed. Now or never. "The surgeons did everything they could but ... but they couldn't save your eye or your arm ..."

Silence.

He did not have the courage to look up, afraid by what he would see reflected on the face of the wounded officer.

But there was no reaction from Sakazuki. Borsalino looked up quickly to make sure that the other was not magically passed out. He understood that he could not speak because of the tube that still blocked his throat, but at least he would have expected some awkward attempt to move, his hand tightening in a vise around his own or at least a shocked expression on that half of the face not covered by dressings. Nothing. The brown pupil stared motionless at an indistinct point on the wall. For a moment he wondered if Sakazuki was more dazed than expected.

"Do you understand what I just said ...?" The pilot slightly shook the policeman's arm to emphasize the question, the IV wires oscillated, with only one arm available, the doctors had pierced several holes on the remaining appendix.

Before he could have any response from the other, Borsalino was moved by one of the nurses while the second had already started the procedure to remove the respirator.

The tear that, during the procedure, came from the officer's eye and went down to wet the pillow, impossible to say if due to the bitter news just learned or for the sensation of the tube slowly crawling and scraping the walls of the esophagus for centimeters and centimeters, was not noticed by the older man who had temporarily turned his back. And for that Sakazuki was grateful.

\-------------------------------------------

The policeman was supposed to spend at least another five weeks in the hospital. As before, Borsalino left only if strictly necessary and, even less, he tried to venture outside in fear of finding a dozen microphones under his nose. Some stops at home, however, were inevitable.  
Kuzan came to see him a couple of times a week, bringing coffee or junk food by some fast food, for the pilot a godsend. However the detective had never entered the room where Sakazuki was resting, he preferred that their "clandestine meetings" took place in the hospital cafeteria.

They were right there now, sitting on a secluded table while Borsalino was intent on appreciating some delicacies that his friend had brought him from the outside world. The policeman on the upper floors was blissfully in the world of dreams as an effect of painkillers.

"So you're telling me he didn't even bat an eye? Nothing?" asked the youngest, bringing the cup of coffee to his lips.

"No. I have been thinking about it since I told him a few days ago "replied Borsalino wiping the salt from his fries with a napkin" You would expect that when one finds out that they have been involved in an explosion and no longer has a arm or leg to go crazy, and I wouldn't blame them. Do you remember the old instructor Zephir? "

Kuzan grumbled as he nodded.

"When we were in the middle of the third year he had to withdraw from the role because he was involved in an accident, he lost an arm and in general his health conditions never recovered completely" The pilot brought his attention out of the window at his side, the sky was dark and the wind was scratching the crowns of the trees, it would rain shortly "At the time I heard several officers talking to each other saying he became half mad"

The detective was having a hard time imagining the current police chief crazy as a horse.

“Yes, I had heard rumors about it too. But I guess everyone reacts differently "

Borsalino was about to reply but was interrupted by the television hanging on the wall of the cafeteria. At the newsletter, a bald little man was announcing yet another report on the parade’s accident but not before introducing the special guest of that day: Morgans.  
The journalist would have rambled for at least a good hour theorising the possible causes of the explosion that killed twenty people and wounded at least twice as many.

"Well you see, my job is to let people know the truth. Truth that sometimes needs to be found by meticulously digging through the dirt that is hidden under the carpet. Some criticize my methods, I call them a community service. " The dried-up man's voice was even more croaking coming out of the TV.

Borsalino hated the guy, nosy like few and notoriously famous for not caring about the others privacy just to get his scoop. Had he been more impulsive, he would have thrown his chair against the TV to silence that bird.

Kuzan's voice distracted him from his intentions.

"Are there any news on the cause of the accident? I mean serious news, not ramblings of journalists willing to sell their mothers for fake ones "  
"To be honest I try to follow the progress of the matter as little as possible ..." the pilot replied with a sigh, looking away from the screen. "I kind of remember that a few days ago the command had released a statement saying that the bomb could have been Teach’s gang works or the Revolutionaries who were targeting the five Councilors ... in any case the matter is serious if they summoned chief Sengoku from the central command to manage both the central and the case "

Borsalino glanced at his wristwatch, it was almost 3pm.

“Ah, forgive me Kuzan, but I have to go. They’ll change Sakazuki’s bandages shortly. "

“You don't have to apologize. In any case, I’d had to leave too, the job calls. " proclaimed the detective as they both got up from the table "If you need something call" added the younger one before turning and heading towards the exit.

"Thanks, see you Kuzan" concluded Borsalino a few moments before heading towards the stairs too.

\-----------------------------------------------

If he had to be completely sincere with himself, Borsalino was not mad with joy when the appointment for the change of medications arrived cyclically during the week.  
The nurses allowed him to stay if he wished, but to sit in the chair next to the bed just to watch the officer writhing and gritting his teeth in pain whenever the doctors had to tear away a gauze dullly attached to a wound, made several times turn his desire towards the door.

With time and subsequent healing the procedure would gradually become simpler. When the nurse removed the bandage that covered the other man's face, Borsalino looked at it. How was it possible that Sakazuki, his always handsome and impeccable Saka, had been reduced like this?

Although both the swelling and the putrescent appearance had already improved, the pilot, however, could not get out of his head the first evening that the dressings were raised, leaving the fruits of the accident in plain sight to the world.  
Initially, the doctors planned to have him wait outside the room, but his partner's interception appeased the staff in white coat that allowed him to stay.

Found a place on Sakazuki's left side, he looked around observing the hard-working ants preparing the sterile gauze and painkillers while the doctor illustrated the operations they were about to start, it would have been painful.  
Borsalino had known the other for a lifetime, he had seen him several times in horrible conditions, especially when they were young: he had broken his bones several times, he had been beat up almost in a shapeless mush, he had even been shot, yet in each one of those cases the maximum reaction that he had let out from his armor of austerity had been some grunt of pain or little more.

When they began to tear off the bandages and with a lightning gesture, between Sakazuki’s agonizing lament, the pilot grabbed his hand squeezing it to prevent his partner from attacking the doctor from the other side in that moment of little lucidity, Borsalino was pervaded by restless feelings.  
When after a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, the bloody gauze was removed from the face, the older man had to take his eyes off that sight by pointing it down. His hand had started to hurt, while Sakazuki's fingertips were now white. He lost count of the time he took to found the strength to look up.  
The show was nothing but grotesque: the whole right side of the face was bruised and swollen, in some places the deepest layer of the epidermis was exposed and the stitches drew paths scattered throughout the area. The eye with the pupil once dark and full of life was now glassy and dull, destined to remain perpetually exposed since the lower eyelid was no longer there. The explosion had also taken away part of the upper lip, causing the mouth to assume a perpetual growl, leaving a glimpse of the empty spaces where the teeth, partly lost too, should have been.

Some nights, when outstretched at his best he dozed off on the armchair in the room, that vision still hunted his sleep. Others nights, however, the sleepless ones spent in silence in front of the vending machines in the break area, he wondered if the subsequent interventions to which his companion should have undergone would have ever given him back a better look.


End file.
